Chapter Ten #4
“Yes,” I reassure her. “I’m really hungry. Shall I cook?”
She nods and picks up two more books to pack. “What do you want to do with the $14,000 books?” she asks.
“I’m going to return them to him.”
“Really?”
“It’s a completely over-the-top gift. I can’t accept it, especially now.” I grin at Kate, and she nods.
“I understand. A couple of letters came for you, and José has been calling every hour on the hour. He sounded desperate.”
“I’ll call him,” I mutter evasively. If I tell Kate about José, she’ll have him for breakfast. I collect the letters from the dining table and open them. “Hey, I have interviews! The week after next, in Seattle, for intern placements!”
“For which publishing house?”
“For both of them!”
“I told you your GPA would open doors, Ana.”
Kate, of course, already has an internship set up at the Seattle Times. Her father knows someone who knows someone.
“How does Elliot feel about you going away?” I ask.
Kate wanders into the kitchen, and for the first time this evening, she’s disconsolate.
“He’s understanding. Part of me doesn’t want to go, but it’s tempting to lie in the sun for a couple of weeks.
Besides, Mom is hanging in there, thinking this will be our last real family holiday before Ethan and I head off into the world of paid employment. ”
I have never left the continental U.S. Kate is off to Barbados with her parents and her brother, Ethan, for two whole weeks.
I’ll be Kateless in our new apartment. That will be weird.
Ethan has been traveling the world since he graduated last year.
I wonder briefly if I’ll see him before they go on vacation. He’s such a lovely guy.
The phone rings, jolting me from my reverie.
“That’ll be José.”
I sigh. I know I have to talk to him. I grab the phone. “Hi.”
“Ana, you’re back!” José shouts his relief at me.
“Obviously.” Sarcasm drips from my voice, and I roll my eyes at the phone.
He’s silent for a moment. “Can I see you? I’m sorry about Friday night. I was drunk…and you… Well. Ana, please forgive me.”
“Of course I forgive you, José. Just don’t do it again. You know I don’t feel like that about you.”
He sighs heavily, sadly. “I know, Ana. I just thought if I kissed you, it might change how you feel.”
“José, I love you dearly; you mean so much to me. You’re like the brother I never had. That’s not going to change. You know that.” I hate to let him down, but it’s the truth.
“So you’re with him now?” His tone is full of disdain.
“José, I’m not with anybody.”
“But you spent the night with him.”
“That’s none of your business!”
“Is it the money?”
“José! How dare you!” The audacity!
“Ana,” he whines and apologizes simultaneously. I cannot deal with his petty jealousy now. I know he’s hurt, but my plate is overflowing dealing with Christian Grey.
“Maybe we can have a coffee or something tomorrow. I’ll call you.” I am conciliatory. He is my friend, and I’m very fond of him. But right now, I don’t need this.
“Tomorrow, then. You’ll call?” The hope in his voice twists my heart.
“Yes. Good night, José.” I hang up, not waiting for his response.
“What was that all about?” Katherine demands, her hands on her hips.
I decide honesty is the policy. She’s looking more intractable than ever. “He made a pass at me on Friday.”
“José? And Christian Grey? Ana, your pheromones must be working overtime. What was the stupid fool thinking?” She shakes her head in disgust and returns to packing crates.
Forty-five minutes later, we pause our packing for the house specialty, my lasagna.
Kate opens a bottle of wine, and we sit among the boxes eating, quaffing cheap red wine, and watching crap TV.
This is normality. It’s so grounding and welcome after the last forty-eight hours of…
madness. I eat my first unhurried, no-nagging, peaceful meal in that time.
What is it about him and food?
Kate clears the dishes and I finish packing up the living room. We are left with the couch, the TV, and the dining table. What more could we need? Just the kitchen and our bedrooms left to pack up, and we have the rest of the week.
The phone rings again. It’s Elliot. Kate winks at me and skips off to her bedroom like she’s fourteen.
I know that she should be writing her valedictorian speech, but it seems Elliot is more important.
What is it about the Grey men? What is it that makes them totally distracting, all-consuming, and irresistible? I take another slug of wine.
I flick through the TV channels, but deep down I know I’m procrastinating. Burning a bright-red hole in the side of my purse is that contract. Do I have the strength and the wherewithal to read it tonight?
I put my head in my hands. José and Christian, they both want something from me.
José is easy to deal with. But Christian…
Christian takes a whole different league of handling, of understanding.
Part of me wants to run and hide. What am I going to do?
His burning gray eyes and his intense smoldering stare come into my mind’s eye, and my body tightens at the thought.
I gasp. He’s not even here and I’m turned on.
It just can’t be about sex, can it? I recall his gentle banter this morning at breakfast, his joy at my delight with the helicopter ride, him playing the piano—the sweet, soulful, oh-so-sad music.
He’s such a complicated person. And now I have an insight as to why.
A young man deprived of his adolescence, sexually abused by some evil Mrs. Robinson figure…
No wonder he’s old before his time. My heart fills with sadness at the thought of what he must have been through.
I’m too naive to know exactly what, but the research should shed some light.
But do I really want to know? Do I want to explore this world I know nothing about? It’s such a big step.
If I’d not met him, I’d still be sweetly and blissfully oblivious. My mind drifts to last night and this morning…and the incredible, sensual sexuality I’d experienced. Do I want to say goodbye to that? No! screams my subconscious. My inner goddess nods in silent Zen-like agreement with her.
Kate wanders back into the living room, grinning from ear to ear.
Perhaps she’s in love. I gape at her. She’s never behaved like this.
“Ana, I’m off to bed. I’m pretty tired.”
“Me, too, Kate.”
She hugs me. “I’m glad you’re back in one piece. There’s something about Christian,” she adds quietly…apologetically.
I give her a small, reassuring smile, all the while thinking, How the hell does she know? This is what will make her a great journalist, her unfaltering intuition.
Collecting my purse, I wander listlessly into my bedroom.
I am weary from all the carnal exertions of the last day and from the complete and utter dilemma I’m faced with.
I sit on my bed and gingerly extract the manila envelope from my bag, turning it over and over in my hands.
Do I really want to know the extent of Christian’s depravity?
It’s so daunting. I take a deep breath, and with my heart in my throat, I rip open the envelope.